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CHAPTER 7:
Your Life Belongs to Me
Just moments ago, Dietrich’s face had been completely blank—but now it twisted in raw fury. He stared down at her with a glare seething with rage and bitterness.
His red eyes, once empty and expressionless, now overflowed with a murderous aura sharp enough to slice through the air itself.
Even with that killing intent directed at her—as if he could tear her apart at any second—Celia didn’t feel afraid.
Was it because she no longer feared death? Or because he was the only man who didn’t look at her with lust?
Or perhaps… it was because her power didn’t work on him.
“You.”
Dietrich stepped into the cell. He bent down and grabbed her shoulder roughly. The force was so strong, Celia genuinely thought her shoulder might be torn off.
But before that could happen, Dietrich released her.
“You think I can’t see through you? That I don’t know you want me to kill you?”
The killing aura dissipated. One side of Dietrich’s mouth curved up in a smile. With the torchlight behind him, only his lips were lit—making him look like a dazzling, beautiful devil.
They say demons appear alluring to tempt humans. Celia had never seen such a beautiful man in her life.
In a world that had only sought to exploit her, the only person she could speak to on equal footing turned out to be Dietrich—the Emperor’s infamous mad dog.
Still, she believed he would eventually kill her. That was why she made sure everyone else stayed away.
No matter how handsome he was, Celia didn’t trust humans.
But what came from Dietrich’s mouth was completely unexpected.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
Celia looked up at him, eyes wide.
“Why not? Keeping me alive won’t benefit you in the slightest.”
“…”
“You just looked like you were about to rip me apart—so why let me live? What does my ability have to do with you?”
Instead of answering, Dietrich stared at her. His gaze slowly moved from her smooth forehead to her green eyes, bright like fresh leaves, then down to her red lips.
“A reason?”
He muttered softly. At the same time, he threw a thick uniform over her shoulders. It was the black uniform he’d just been wearing—covered in medals, like his dark hair.
Celia looked at him, then at the uniform, clearly confused.
“Why are you giving me this…?”
Before she could finish her sentence, he replied.
“Your life belongs to me. That’s the only reason I’m letting you live.”
…Yeah, right. Clearly, he wanted something from her.
Celia clenched the large coat in her fists, forming wrinkles in the oversized fabric.
“How do you know about my ability?”
For a split second, Dietrich’s pupils narrowed.
“If you want to know that…”
He leaned in and took the uniform from her hands, draping it over her shoulders himself.
His eyes paused at her neck—still bearing the red handprint he’d left there.
Dietrich said nothing. Instead, he began fastening the buttons of the uniform one by one.
Celia stared at him, bewildered, as he methodically buttoned each one with an unreadable expression.
Not until he’d fastened the last button did he finally step back.
The uniform, tailored to his large frame, completely covered Celia’s body—and then some.
“Do exactly as I say. That includes what you eat and how you act.”
With that, Dietrich straightened up. He turned his back to her and locked the cell behind him. Then, glancing back, he added:
“It’s better if you keep that uniform on. As long as you’re wearing it, no lunatic will try what that man did earlier.”
Celia had already unbuttoned a few and was thinking of taking it off. Dietrich’s eyes filled with disgust.
“…If you want what happened earlier to happen again, go ahead and stay in your chemise.”
“Anyone would think you’re my husband.”
His look of contempt deepened with her sarcasm. His glare pricked her like needles. Celia clicked her tongue inwardly.
Still, he clearly knew more about her power than he let on. There was no benefit to provoking him further.
Just as he wanted something from her—she wanted something from him, too.
“Button it properly. Don’t make me come back and do it again.”
He looked ready to come back in if she disobeyed.
“Fine. I’ll wear it properly, okay?”
Celia shrugged and did up the buttons again. Only after confirming she’d fastened them all did Dietrich finally turn and walk away.
After he left, Celia looked down at the uniform she was wearing. She had expected it to smell of blood—but instead, it gave off a surprisingly pleasant scent.
It smelled faintly of roses and soap, or maybe of forests and wood.
Celia wrinkled her nose and muttered:
“…There’s no scent that suits him less.”
As Dietrich left the prison, he was met in the corridor by someone he wasn’t exactly pleased to see.
“My lord, where are you rushing off to?”
Unlike the always-expressionless Dietrich, this man smiled constantly and had a talent for getting under people’s skin.
With neatly combed blonde hair and violet eyes, he was also the only heir left behind by the now-dead emperor.
“…Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”
It was Jeremy—the Crown Prince.
There had been many women and children sired by the emperor, but they were all killed by the empress. Jeremy’s mother fed the emperor infertility medicine and bore a son without him ever knowing.
Unlike the incompetent emperor, his only surviving son was as cunning as his mother—and far from incompetent.
“You’ve just come from the prison, haven’t you?”
Jeremy smiled broadly as he openly eyed Dietrich from head to toe. He showed no sign of mourning his father’s death.
“Haven’t seen you without a uniform in a long time. Where’d you leave it?”
“Your Highness is far too generous with your attention.”
Jeremy chuckled and lightly tapped Dietrich’s cheek with the back of his hand—like one might pat a household dog. Dietrich’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.
“Well, I should be generous. My father’s dead, so that makes you my dog now, doesn’t it?”
“…”
“I’ll forgive you for not wearing your uniform this time. But there is something I’m quite curious about…”
Jeremy’s voice trailed off as his smile widened unnaturally. Whenever he smiled like that, something bad always followed.
“You locked her in the prison without my permission? And you even closed it off to everyone?”
As expected, Dietrich knew Jeremy would nitpick.
He had successfully manipulated the incompetent emperor to his liking—but Jeremy wasn’t so easily played.
Jeremy had hated Dietrich from the beginning. When Dietrich first entered the palace, Jeremy had even ordered a male servant to assassinate him—despite Dietrich having shown no potential yet.
Simply because the emperor took him in, Jeremy had tried to kill him. Just like his mother, he left no threats behind.
But he failed. Despite over ten years of countless assassination attempts, he never succeeded.
The royal knights followed Dietrich more loyally than they had the emperor. His swordsmanship, leadership, and charisma had earned their devotion.
With the monarchy’s power dwindling, nothing was more threatening to Jeremy—the next ruler—than Dietrich’s military might.
“And which woman might Your Highness be referring to?”
Dietrich asked calmly, his expression unchanged.
“Oh come now, don’t play dumb. I’m talking about the Angel of Brillion.”
“…Ah.”
Dietrich blinked slowly, as if just now understanding.
“Given that she assassinated the emperor, I judged imprisoning her necessary to preserve imperial dignity and prevent the collapse of royal authority.”
“‘Necessary,’ you say? And I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Then perhaps Your Highness would kindly instruct this inadequate subject of yours—what, exactly, should I have done with the emperor’s assassin?”
“So, you admit your own inadequacy.”
Jeremy’s smile vanished in an instant.
“You really are nothing more than a worthless mutt.”
Even the insult didn’t change Dietrich’s face. The unreadable expression only deepened Jeremy’s frown—though he quickly forced another smile.
“Come to think of it, you’ve seen the Angel of Brillion in person, haven’t you? I’ve only heard the rumors.”
Dietrich offered no response. Jeremy smiled slyly and asked, as if he were truly curious:
“Well? Is she as pretty as they say?”
